Mark 5:21-43
This morning’s gospel offers a story within a story. The stories of the healing of Jarius’ daughter and the hemorrhaging woman have many parallels.
Both are obviously women and daughters. One is a child of twelve, the other a destitute woman. In Jesus’ day women were of no value. The fact that Jesus would heal them gives great significance to Jesus’ ministry.
Both are ritually unclean. The child is dead when Jesus touches her. The woman is bleeding, making her unclean.
The number twelve appears in both stories. The child is twelve and the woman has been ill for twelve years. The number twelve symbolizes perfection and restoration.
Both were healed by the touch of Jesus.
The stories beg for us to focus on healing. We all have something from which we want to receive healing. The last few days I received some messages about a friend who was in the final days of her life. She died Friday, much too young. We talked several times about her struggles. Struggles with faith, why she had to suffer and if Jesus really did heal why wouldn’t he heal her. I didn’t have any answers for her.
Biblical stories about healing always cause me to wrestle with the obvious question – what meaning does this have for us today? If Jesus were here today, maybe he could provide some miraculous healing for people like my friend?
The object of these stories, every story about Jesus, the reason to be a disciple of Jesus, is not to do what Jesus taught us to do, like following rules, no the purpose of these stories is to teach us how to be like Jesus. To sit at the feet of the teacher is to learn to be like the teacher. In other words, Jesus was a healer and he is teaching us to be healers.
I’m going to share a story with you where I have changed the names to protect the confidentiality held within a spiritual direction group.
Mary had been a very quiet member within our group. She rarely took the opportunity to speak. But in one of our final sessions she told us a story. When she was in the sixth grade a girl from the eighth grade became her mentor. The mentor reached out to Mary, supported her, and made her feel valuable. This relationship was very important to Mary. Near the end of the school year the principal called the school together to announce that Mary’s mentor, an eighth grader, had committed suicide. Of course, Mary was devastated. She went into a dark, depressive and bitter state. And she stayed in that dark place. As Mary told the story, Beth, sitting across the room from Mary, started to cry.
Mary went on to say that a few years later she and a friend were walking around the yard at school and came upon a much younger boy sitting on the curb. He had his head in his hands, crying. Mary and her friend asked the boy why he was crying. He told them he didn’t have any friends. Mary and her friend befriended the boy. Eventually, he gained confidence and learned how to make friends his own age. Mary told us that she had realized that she had grown from a mentoring relationship and she needed to share what she had learned with someone else. The experience of mentoring the little boy released her of bitterness.
Beth, across the room, sobbed. She got and came across the room. Beth embraced Mary, “that was my classmate,” she said through her tears. Crying Beth left the room.
After our spiritual direction session Beth told me that Mary’s mentor had been her classmate. Sometimes a friend, other times she was distant. After the girl’s suicide Beth had always agonized that maybe she should have paid more attention to her classmate, maybe things would have been different and life would not have been wasted. But, she realized in Mary’s story that her friend’s life had not been a total loss. Mary had been deeply touched, so much so that Mary’s life had been changed by her mentoring someone else in need.
We are not called to be Jesus but we are called to be like Jesus and to do the things Jesus did – we are called to be healers.
Like Jesus, we can touch others with the stories of our own lives. Our stories, our lives, can bring healing to others. Indeed, healing has a cost. It cost Jesus some of the essence of the energy of his life. He was willing take the risk of being drained. He was willing to take the risk of touching the weak and the unclean. Jesus was willing to be present to the outcast of society. Jesus was willing to be laughed at and to be ridiculed. We are called to be like our brother Jesus. We are called to take risks, touch the untouchable, to walk with the outcasts and to be present to those around us with the healing power of our stories. Tell your stories. Let the healing power be released in your life.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Radical seeds
The age of the Internet boasts a high level of connectivity for everyone who has a computer. There are so many ways to be a part of a virtual community. Like me, millions of people stay in touch with family and friends through email, blogs and Facebook. I know some of you have shared my blog with your friends and every once in awhile I hear from these folks.
Of course by being so “public” on the Internet I’ve been re-connected with some people of my past, a lot of who played baseball for me at Grand Canyon. For the most part it’s been fun to hear from these guys. Most of them have shared kind stories about their good memories of playing baseball for me at Canyon. It’s great to hear their stories about careers, families and hobbies. I love the personal contact.
I have reoccurring dreams about my coaching experience. Most of those dreams center around taking care of the field. Guys who coach small college baseball spend a lot of time taking care of the field, mowing the grass, dragging the infield, fixing sprinkler heads and manicuring the lines. Most college coaches I know take great pride in their field.
I pay a lot of attention to my dreams because of the influence of Carl Jung. Dreams have great meaning. The unconscious is always trying to explain its world to the conscious.
My dream usually goes something like this, I show up to the field and something is drastically wrong. The field is flooded or locusts have eaten the grass. It’s usually something bizarre and unexpected that has destroyed the field. Over the course of time these dreams have diminished but still appear. Last week I had one of my baseball field dreams.
I dreamt that I showed up to the field ready for a game. But the field was covered with huge bushes like mesquite trees. Actually “mesquite tree” is a misnomer. Mesquites are bushes. However, because we plant them in our yards and water them, and they grow larger than there were ever intended. So we prune them and water them even more and they have over time turned into trees. But, anyway, in my dream the field is covered with these huge bushes. So, I’m going around trying to cut down these trees. Every time I cut one down another grows in its place. It’s a real nightmare.
Jesus has told us two parables. The first is about the farmer who plants his crop. The farmer, who can do nothing to make the crop grows, goes into his house and goes to bed. The farmer must wait patiently for the crop to mature and then he harvests the crop.
Set against this parable is Jesus’ second story about the farmer who plants the mustard seed.
Jesus says the farmer plants the mustard seed, the smallest seed of all. Jesus is the best preacher but doesn’t know his botany very well – the mustard seed is not the smallest of seeds – but no matter. The farmer plants the tiny mustard seed and grows into this large bush. This is a bush so large that the birds will nest in it.
This is truly a Jesus’ parable. No reasonable farmer would plant a mustard seed anywhere near his other crops. It tough enough to be farmer and fight the elements and the bugs, so why would a farmer plant a bush that would attract birds who would probably eat the seeds and plants of the other crops? No, a good farmer would not plant a mustard seed.
So what’s with these two stories?
The Church, that’s us, is the farmer in both these stories. It is our responsibility to plant the seeds. But the seeds we plant are not the seeds that everyone else would expect – no the Church is called to plant the seed that will attract birds of every kind. The mustard seed is the seed of revolution – a revolution of inclusion.
The first story reminds us that our job is to plant the seed and then rely on the mystery of God for the results. We are sowing radical seeds, not popular seeds that depend upon God for mature growth.
If we are faithful to plant the seeds of inclusion, hospitality to all, a house where it’s safe for everyone to come for rest, God will supply the increase. When we tell our neighbors, family and friends that this is a house where all are welcome God will speak into their hearts. We can patiently wait for the mystery of God to work in their heart. As with my former players we may see the fruit of our work. But, if we are planting the radical seeds of inclusion God’s mystery is faithful to provide a harvest.
Of course by being so “public” on the Internet I’ve been re-connected with some people of my past, a lot of who played baseball for me at Grand Canyon. For the most part it’s been fun to hear from these guys. Most of them have shared kind stories about their good memories of playing baseball for me at Canyon. It’s great to hear their stories about careers, families and hobbies. I love the personal contact.
I have reoccurring dreams about my coaching experience. Most of those dreams center around taking care of the field. Guys who coach small college baseball spend a lot of time taking care of the field, mowing the grass, dragging the infield, fixing sprinkler heads and manicuring the lines. Most college coaches I know take great pride in their field.
I pay a lot of attention to my dreams because of the influence of Carl Jung. Dreams have great meaning. The unconscious is always trying to explain its world to the conscious.
My dream usually goes something like this, I show up to the field and something is drastically wrong. The field is flooded or locusts have eaten the grass. It’s usually something bizarre and unexpected that has destroyed the field. Over the course of time these dreams have diminished but still appear. Last week I had one of my baseball field dreams.
I dreamt that I showed up to the field ready for a game. But the field was covered with huge bushes like mesquite trees. Actually “mesquite tree” is a misnomer. Mesquites are bushes. However, because we plant them in our yards and water them, and they grow larger than there were ever intended. So we prune them and water them even more and they have over time turned into trees. But, anyway, in my dream the field is covered with these huge bushes. So, I’m going around trying to cut down these trees. Every time I cut one down another grows in its place. It’s a real nightmare.
Jesus has told us two parables. The first is about the farmer who plants his crop. The farmer, who can do nothing to make the crop grows, goes into his house and goes to bed. The farmer must wait patiently for the crop to mature and then he harvests the crop.
Set against this parable is Jesus’ second story about the farmer who plants the mustard seed.
Jesus says the farmer plants the mustard seed, the smallest seed of all. Jesus is the best preacher but doesn’t know his botany very well – the mustard seed is not the smallest of seeds – but no matter. The farmer plants the tiny mustard seed and grows into this large bush. This is a bush so large that the birds will nest in it.
This is truly a Jesus’ parable. No reasonable farmer would plant a mustard seed anywhere near his other crops. It tough enough to be farmer and fight the elements and the bugs, so why would a farmer plant a bush that would attract birds who would probably eat the seeds and plants of the other crops? No, a good farmer would not plant a mustard seed.
So what’s with these two stories?
The Church, that’s us, is the farmer in both these stories. It is our responsibility to plant the seeds. But the seeds we plant are not the seeds that everyone else would expect – no the Church is called to plant the seed that will attract birds of every kind. The mustard seed is the seed of revolution – a revolution of inclusion.
The first story reminds us that our job is to plant the seed and then rely on the mystery of God for the results. We are sowing radical seeds, not popular seeds that depend upon God for mature growth.
If we are faithful to plant the seeds of inclusion, hospitality to all, a house where it’s safe for everyone to come for rest, God will supply the increase. When we tell our neighbors, family and friends that this is a house where all are welcome God will speak into their hearts. We can patiently wait for the mystery of God to work in their heart. As with my former players we may see the fruit of our work. But, if we are planting the radical seeds of inclusion God’s mystery is faithful to provide a harvest.
Monday, May 25, 2009
The pilgrims bag
Today we celebrate the feast of our patron saint, Augustine of Canterbury. On this very special day we are also celebrating in the baptism of Moon Arae Anderson. It’s an alignment of the wisdom of the ancient saints and the beginning of the process of a child among us being made holy.
St. Augustine, a Benedictine monk and a prior of his monastery in the late sixth century was sent by Pope Gregory to be a witness to the gospel to the people of Britain. His strength as the first Bishop of Canterbury was his ability to incorporate the spiritual practices of the indigenous people that enhanced the Christian prayer and practice of faith.
The bell is rung three times – calling the monks to pray. We too hear the bells calling us into the realm of the spiritual – a life of prayer.
God walks among us this very day, fetching us into the Presence of the Holy. We are being called into sacred space. We are being asked to come sit in the place of intimate prayer with God.
The earliest monks and mystics drew upon the Gospel of John as their guide through the world of mystery, through the life of contact with God. Seeking God while walking with God.
As we heard in this morning’s gospel (John 17:6-19) Jesus is praying for his disciples and in verse twenty, he is also praying for us. Jesus is fetching us into the inner life of God. Jesus is beckoning us into the inner holy space of the Trinity. Jesus is offering us the privilege of being one with God, one with Jesus Christ, one with the Holy Spirit and one with each other.
Jesus shows us the way into the inner life of God. The path to the inner holy space of the Trinity is through love, Jesus says. The love that is found in the community of friends, soul friends, “koinonia” Jesus calls it – a deep bonded fellowship that we experience in the Presence of the Holy Trinity.
The Irish call this community of soul friends, the anam cara – those who walk along side.
The inner life of God, the holy space of the Trinity, is a place shared by our own soul – we share the same simple belongings carried by the pilgrim, the belongings of our soul shared with the soul of God. We share the community of soul friends on pilgrimage, we share the walking stick of prayer, and we share the pilgrim’s bag of resources needed for the journey.
Today, Moon joins us on the pilgrimage. She joins us in the process of being made holy – being sanctified, Jesus calls it. All of us are being made holy, a lifetime process. Being made holy through baptism. Being made holy through the Eucharist. Being made holy through worship. Being made holy through our study of the scriptures, and being made holy through our prayers.
The pilgrim’s walking stick clicks the ground with each step, reminding the pilgrim of each person called in prayer. As I walk I pray for Moon, I pray for you, I pray for those sick and in need this day, I call their names, God knows their needs, I simply lift them up to God.
The pilgrim’s bag is a light load. Prayer beads maybe? A prayer book. The Bible. I like to carry Joan Chittister’s The Rule of Benedict. The same Rule followed by St. Augustine. Sr. Joan’s interpretation gives daily meaning to the Rule in a post-modern world. I read it daily, over and over again, finding new words each time I re-read the same passage.
Yes, we are in the process of being made holy by God. We seek God. We search for the presence of God. Yet, sometimes we can’t find God. We know we must be on the pilgrimage in order to encounter the Holy, the mystical. Yet, God seems absent at times.
I met a man in Ireland who asked me what I was doing walking around with that pack. I told him I was on a pilgrimage, walking across Ireland. He said, “You wouldn’t be insultin’ God by looking for him, now would ya?”
God is here among us – keep walking, keep praying.
St. Augustine, a Benedictine monk and a prior of his monastery in the late sixth century was sent by Pope Gregory to be a witness to the gospel to the people of Britain. His strength as the first Bishop of Canterbury was his ability to incorporate the spiritual practices of the indigenous people that enhanced the Christian prayer and practice of faith.
The bell is rung three times – calling the monks to pray. We too hear the bells calling us into the realm of the spiritual – a life of prayer.
God walks among us this very day, fetching us into the Presence of the Holy. We are being called into sacred space. We are being asked to come sit in the place of intimate prayer with God.
The earliest monks and mystics drew upon the Gospel of John as their guide through the world of mystery, through the life of contact with God. Seeking God while walking with God.
As we heard in this morning’s gospel (John 17:6-19) Jesus is praying for his disciples and in verse twenty, he is also praying for us. Jesus is fetching us into the inner life of God. Jesus is beckoning us into the inner holy space of the Trinity. Jesus is offering us the privilege of being one with God, one with Jesus Christ, one with the Holy Spirit and one with each other.
Jesus shows us the way into the inner life of God. The path to the inner holy space of the Trinity is through love, Jesus says. The love that is found in the community of friends, soul friends, “koinonia” Jesus calls it – a deep bonded fellowship that we experience in the Presence of the Holy Trinity.
The Irish call this community of soul friends, the anam cara – those who walk along side.
The inner life of God, the holy space of the Trinity, is a place shared by our own soul – we share the same simple belongings carried by the pilgrim, the belongings of our soul shared with the soul of God. We share the community of soul friends on pilgrimage, we share the walking stick of prayer, and we share the pilgrim’s bag of resources needed for the journey.
Today, Moon joins us on the pilgrimage. She joins us in the process of being made holy – being sanctified, Jesus calls it. All of us are being made holy, a lifetime process. Being made holy through baptism. Being made holy through the Eucharist. Being made holy through worship. Being made holy through our study of the scriptures, and being made holy through our prayers.
The pilgrim’s walking stick clicks the ground with each step, reminding the pilgrim of each person called in prayer. As I walk I pray for Moon, I pray for you, I pray for those sick and in need this day, I call their names, God knows their needs, I simply lift them up to God.
The pilgrim’s bag is a light load. Prayer beads maybe? A prayer book. The Bible. I like to carry Joan Chittister’s The Rule of Benedict. The same Rule followed by St. Augustine. Sr. Joan’s interpretation gives daily meaning to the Rule in a post-modern world. I read it daily, over and over again, finding new words each time I re-read the same passage.
Yes, we are in the process of being made holy by God. We seek God. We search for the presence of God. Yet, sometimes we can’t find God. We know we must be on the pilgrimage in order to encounter the Holy, the mystical. Yet, God seems absent at times.
I met a man in Ireland who asked me what I was doing walking around with that pack. I told him I was on a pilgrimage, walking across Ireland. He said, “You wouldn’t be insultin’ God by looking for him, now would ya?”
God is here among us – keep walking, keep praying.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Holy Listening
Every story has a back story, the story leading up to the present story – that’s why we read the first 450 pages of a 500 page novel – it’s the story that gets us to this point in the story that makes the story interesting.
I went to see the movie Star Trek the other day and the entire movie is the back story for the original TV series I watched in high school. It was like reacquainted with some old friends.
I believe today’s reading from Acts 10:44-48 has an important message for us. However, in today’s reading what we heard is the end of the story – without the back-story the little snippet we heard could go unnoticed or worse, made irrelevant.
The tenth chapter of Acts is the story of Peter and Cornelius. It’s a mystical story that not only changes the lives of two men and their community’s, it changes the direction of an emerging institution, the Church.
Cornelius is an interesting character. He’s a Roman centurion, a member of the Italian Cohort, an elite group that is reported to have been in Syria before 69 CE. The writer of Acts describes Cornelius as a God fearing man. He worshipped the Jewish God and contributed to the temple. However, he had not gone through with the ritual of conversion.
Cornelius was a devout man and faithful in prayers. One day in the midst of his prayers an angel appeared to him, he had a vision. The angel told him to send for Peter who was in Joppa, about a day’s travel away. Cornelius had no idea who Peter was but he was so excited about the vision that he sent some his most trusted men to fetch Peter.
Peter was a devout and holy Jew. He said his prayers faithfully, followed the rabbinic laws and kept kosher.
The next day, before Cornelius’ men arrive Peter is on a rooftop of his friend’s house praying. The story tells us he was very hungry, maybe he had been fasting. The family he was staying with was preparing him a meal. During his prayers he, like Cornelius, had a vision.
In Peter’s vision a huge veil was lowered from the heavens. The veil was filled with all kinds of things to eat – none of which Peter could eat and remain a faithful Jew. A voice spoke to Peter telling him to kill and eat. Peter refused saying he would never eat anything that was not kosher. The voice said, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.”
Cornelius’ men arrive and persuade Peter to go with them to the house of the centurion. Cornelius was Roman and thereby a Gentile. And Peter was not allowed to be in the home of Gentile.
Upon Peter’s arrival Cornelius gathers his family. He tells Peter about his vision. Now they are anxiously waiting to hear the Peter’s message. Peter begins to tell them the story of how Jesus was filled with the Holy Spirit, preaching peace and healing the oppressed. He tells them that Jesus was crucified but through the power of the Spirit of God, he overcame death.
Before Peter could even finish his story, Cornelius and his family became overcome with the power of the Holy Spirit, speaking the language of the
Spirit.
Peter’s companions were shocked that the Holy Spirit would fall even on the Gentiles. Even before they had been baptized.
Here are the two radical theological nuggets in this story. A great deal of my theology is built are these two notions.
First, the Holy Spirit fetches us into the sacred space of the sacramental. In other words, God draws us into the Presence of the Holy.
The Holy Spirit is not confined by the rules of the Church. God was teaching Peter that the rules and laws of the Church would not confine God. Somehow the Church is still in the process of trying to learn that concept.
The Church seems to be able to find countless ways to keep people away from the sacrament of God’s Presence. I cannot find any reason to prevent someone from being baptized nor from receiving communion. God is the One who is doing the fetching; the Church is the one that should be dancing in ecstasy with anyone who is hearing the Spirit.
Second, hospitality is critical to community. The last line in the story is, “They invited him (Peter) to stay for several days.” Why? So they could get to know one another, to hear one another’s stories. Holy listening forms community (Sr. Joan Chittister).
Holy listening creates holy transformation. Transformation will create space for God to form, shape and call the people into the work of the Community of God. God’s calling will create transition. Our parish is a university parish. A parish that is called to pray, discern and provide hospitality. When we go about doing this holy spiritual and mystical work of God, holy transitions will happen. God is breaking down the barriers of the religious to liberate the work of the Spirit. We are experiencing the work of the Spirit in our congregation. We are currently sponsoring five discernment committees who are doing the work of holy listening. With that much holy listening going on we can expect God to be calling – calling more than just those in discernment. God is calling all of us into holy transformation.
Holy transformation changes our habits, our prejudices and our worldview. Our way of hearing the Holy Spirit is changed. If we listen deeply to the Spirit of God our individual lives, our community, our parish and I pray our Church will be transformed into a safe and sacred space where the mystical work of the Holy Spirit will take place.
I went to see the movie Star Trek the other day and the entire movie is the back story for the original TV series I watched in high school. It was like reacquainted with some old friends.
I believe today’s reading from Acts 10:44-48 has an important message for us. However, in today’s reading what we heard is the end of the story – without the back-story the little snippet we heard could go unnoticed or worse, made irrelevant.
The tenth chapter of Acts is the story of Peter and Cornelius. It’s a mystical story that not only changes the lives of two men and their community’s, it changes the direction of an emerging institution, the Church.
Cornelius is an interesting character. He’s a Roman centurion, a member of the Italian Cohort, an elite group that is reported to have been in Syria before 69 CE. The writer of Acts describes Cornelius as a God fearing man. He worshipped the Jewish God and contributed to the temple. However, he had not gone through with the ritual of conversion.
Cornelius was a devout man and faithful in prayers. One day in the midst of his prayers an angel appeared to him, he had a vision. The angel told him to send for Peter who was in Joppa, about a day’s travel away. Cornelius had no idea who Peter was but he was so excited about the vision that he sent some his most trusted men to fetch Peter.
Peter was a devout and holy Jew. He said his prayers faithfully, followed the rabbinic laws and kept kosher.
The next day, before Cornelius’ men arrive Peter is on a rooftop of his friend’s house praying. The story tells us he was very hungry, maybe he had been fasting. The family he was staying with was preparing him a meal. During his prayers he, like Cornelius, had a vision.
In Peter’s vision a huge veil was lowered from the heavens. The veil was filled with all kinds of things to eat – none of which Peter could eat and remain a faithful Jew. A voice spoke to Peter telling him to kill and eat. Peter refused saying he would never eat anything that was not kosher. The voice said, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.”
Cornelius’ men arrive and persuade Peter to go with them to the house of the centurion. Cornelius was Roman and thereby a Gentile. And Peter was not allowed to be in the home of Gentile.
Upon Peter’s arrival Cornelius gathers his family. He tells Peter about his vision. Now they are anxiously waiting to hear the Peter’s message. Peter begins to tell them the story of how Jesus was filled with the Holy Spirit, preaching peace and healing the oppressed. He tells them that Jesus was crucified but through the power of the Spirit of God, he overcame death.
Before Peter could even finish his story, Cornelius and his family became overcome with the power of the Holy Spirit, speaking the language of the
Spirit.
Peter’s companions were shocked that the Holy Spirit would fall even on the Gentiles. Even before they had been baptized.
Here are the two radical theological nuggets in this story. A great deal of my theology is built are these two notions.
First, the Holy Spirit fetches us into the sacred space of the sacramental. In other words, God draws us into the Presence of the Holy.
The Holy Spirit is not confined by the rules of the Church. God was teaching Peter that the rules and laws of the Church would not confine God. Somehow the Church is still in the process of trying to learn that concept.
The Church seems to be able to find countless ways to keep people away from the sacrament of God’s Presence. I cannot find any reason to prevent someone from being baptized nor from receiving communion. God is the One who is doing the fetching; the Church is the one that should be dancing in ecstasy with anyone who is hearing the Spirit.
Second, hospitality is critical to community. The last line in the story is, “They invited him (Peter) to stay for several days.” Why? So they could get to know one another, to hear one another’s stories. Holy listening forms community (Sr. Joan Chittister).
Holy listening creates holy transformation. Transformation will create space for God to form, shape and call the people into the work of the Community of God. God’s calling will create transition. Our parish is a university parish. A parish that is called to pray, discern and provide hospitality. When we go about doing this holy spiritual and mystical work of God, holy transitions will happen. God is breaking down the barriers of the religious to liberate the work of the Spirit. We are experiencing the work of the Spirit in our congregation. We are currently sponsoring five discernment committees who are doing the work of holy listening. With that much holy listening going on we can expect God to be calling – calling more than just those in discernment. God is calling all of us into holy transformation.
Holy transformation changes our habits, our prejudices and our worldview. Our way of hearing the Holy Spirit is changed. If we listen deeply to the Spirit of God our individual lives, our community, our parish and I pray our Church will be transformed into a safe and sacred space where the mystical work of the Holy Spirit will take place.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Master Gardener
This morning’s gospel (John 15:1-8) is a tough one for me – frankly, from the age of thirteen I’ve never liked this reading. When I hear it I think of all the sermons I have heard over the years using this text as a means of trying to control my behavior. As in, if you don’t do what the preacher expects from you then he’ll send you out to cut off a piece of that vine and the preacher will beat you with it.
The threat is if you don’t produce fruit, act in an acceptable manner, then you’re off the team. And of course the person preaching had pre-determined what good fruit looked like. On the surface its an exclusionary text and appears to be the opposite of the words we heard in 1 John, God is love.
I have such an aversion to this text that I spent all week working on another sermon, one from the epistle reading (1 John 4:7-21). It is, after all, Mother’s Day. I had a sermon prepared that I know you would really like about how God loves us like our mom’s love us, it was a beautiful sermon. But no matter how hard I tried I could not get away from the gospel text. It was if God was saying to me, “Come here and confront your past with the future might become.”
So, late Friday I started over. This is what you get.
I go at yard work like Cathy’s grandmother used to say, “Like you’re killing snakes.” When I trim the bushes I get out my bushwhacker and go to hacking. It’s never a pretty site. I can take a man-sized bush to the ground in a few minutes. I’m sure the bushes scream every time they see me coming.
This winter I got a notice from the water company that I had a plant blocking their access to the meter. I had no idea where the meter was. I assumed in way under one of the bushes. It took me an awfully long time but I finally found the meter. It tucked way under this large oleander in my front yard.
I don’t like this bush so I ignore it. The thing was huge. I started with the bushwhacker but soon realized that the vines of the oleander were too big. Next I tried a vine trimmer that I had, still the vines had grown to big for that tool. Finally, I had to get out a saw to cut the thing back far enough to get to the water meter. What started out as an eight-foot bush was reduced to a foot-high stub.
Of course, now the thing is growing back with vengeance.
I was out whacking at my bushes one day and I noticed my neighbor across the street trimming his bushes. He has the same kind of bushes that I have in my yard. He was squatting down in front of each bush. He had a pair of hand snipers. My neighbor would look over the bush carefully. He was selecting parts of the bush that he thought needed trimming. Then he would reach down in the bush and gently cut away the individual branch. I watched him for quite a while, realizing that’s why his bushes look so much better than mine – while my bushes scream in fear every time they see me, his bushes probably look forward to the good gardener trimming them. Its as they know he’s doing what’s best for them.
It is tempting for us in Western culture to think about this passage in individualistic terms. It is always about “me” isn’t it? But, in this passage, I think Jesus is talking about the community – the collected community of God. Jesus is the vine and the community is the branches. God is the good gardener.
What is the fruit of the vine? What are the branches supposed to be producing? Love. God is love and the community abides in God’s love. The fruit is love. Big, luscious juicy fruit of love, the best fruit in the garden. So wonderful that the juice funs down your chin when you bite into it.
The question we have to ask ourselves is what in our community would God see as needing to be trimmed back? A trimming so that the community can produce more fruit of love.
I see God like my neighbor, carefully and gently squatting down beside the community, looking it over with an experienced eye and deciding, lovingly, what branches need to be trimmed. God does this because this is what is best for the community. The community will grow back much fuller and it will produce more fruit of love if is trimmed with expertise.
Does that mean God is trimming people from the community – no. I think the branches maybe the practices of the community that have been around forever that don’t produce any longer. Some of the branches may be newer ideas or practices that need a trimming because they’re not ready to produce fruit yet. Maybe some of the branches are the ways we think about practices, ideas or people. Maybe some of those branches need to be trimmed back so they can re-grow in a more productive way.
It doesn’t mean the branches are bad or were never productive, it just means that now is the best time for trimming.
When we recognize that the fruit of the vine of love, we can be more accepting of the trimming of the practices and ideas our community has that either no longer produce the fruit of love or are not ready to produce fruit of love. For the community of God to grow to it’s fullest potential here at St. A’s we must be open to more pruning to way for new grow.
Best thing, though, is, I’m not God and God doesn’t use a bushwhacker.
The threat is if you don’t produce fruit, act in an acceptable manner, then you’re off the team. And of course the person preaching had pre-determined what good fruit looked like. On the surface its an exclusionary text and appears to be the opposite of the words we heard in 1 John, God is love.
I have such an aversion to this text that I spent all week working on another sermon, one from the epistle reading (1 John 4:7-21). It is, after all, Mother’s Day. I had a sermon prepared that I know you would really like about how God loves us like our mom’s love us, it was a beautiful sermon. But no matter how hard I tried I could not get away from the gospel text. It was if God was saying to me, “Come here and confront your past with the future might become.”
So, late Friday I started over. This is what you get.
I go at yard work like Cathy’s grandmother used to say, “Like you’re killing snakes.” When I trim the bushes I get out my bushwhacker and go to hacking. It’s never a pretty site. I can take a man-sized bush to the ground in a few minutes. I’m sure the bushes scream every time they see me coming.
This winter I got a notice from the water company that I had a plant blocking their access to the meter. I had no idea where the meter was. I assumed in way under one of the bushes. It took me an awfully long time but I finally found the meter. It tucked way under this large oleander in my front yard.
I don’t like this bush so I ignore it. The thing was huge. I started with the bushwhacker but soon realized that the vines of the oleander were too big. Next I tried a vine trimmer that I had, still the vines had grown to big for that tool. Finally, I had to get out a saw to cut the thing back far enough to get to the water meter. What started out as an eight-foot bush was reduced to a foot-high stub.
Of course, now the thing is growing back with vengeance.
I was out whacking at my bushes one day and I noticed my neighbor across the street trimming his bushes. He has the same kind of bushes that I have in my yard. He was squatting down in front of each bush. He had a pair of hand snipers. My neighbor would look over the bush carefully. He was selecting parts of the bush that he thought needed trimming. Then he would reach down in the bush and gently cut away the individual branch. I watched him for quite a while, realizing that’s why his bushes look so much better than mine – while my bushes scream in fear every time they see me, his bushes probably look forward to the good gardener trimming them. Its as they know he’s doing what’s best for them.
It is tempting for us in Western culture to think about this passage in individualistic terms. It is always about “me” isn’t it? But, in this passage, I think Jesus is talking about the community – the collected community of God. Jesus is the vine and the community is the branches. God is the good gardener.
What is the fruit of the vine? What are the branches supposed to be producing? Love. God is love and the community abides in God’s love. The fruit is love. Big, luscious juicy fruit of love, the best fruit in the garden. So wonderful that the juice funs down your chin when you bite into it.
The question we have to ask ourselves is what in our community would God see as needing to be trimmed back? A trimming so that the community can produce more fruit of love.
I see God like my neighbor, carefully and gently squatting down beside the community, looking it over with an experienced eye and deciding, lovingly, what branches need to be trimmed. God does this because this is what is best for the community. The community will grow back much fuller and it will produce more fruit of love if is trimmed with expertise.
Does that mean God is trimming people from the community – no. I think the branches maybe the practices of the community that have been around forever that don’t produce any longer. Some of the branches may be newer ideas or practices that need a trimming because they’re not ready to produce fruit yet. Maybe some of the branches are the ways we think about practices, ideas or people. Maybe some of those branches need to be trimmed back so they can re-grow in a more productive way.
It doesn’t mean the branches are bad or were never productive, it just means that now is the best time for trimming.
When we recognize that the fruit of the vine of love, we can be more accepting of the trimming of the practices and ideas our community has that either no longer produce the fruit of love or are not ready to produce fruit of love. For the community of God to grow to it’s fullest potential here at St. A’s we must be open to more pruning to way for new grow.
Best thing, though, is, I’m not God and God doesn’t use a bushwhacker.
Monday, May 04, 2009
The Good Migrant Worker
I’ve had the wonderful opportunity of traveling to Ireland a few times. I’ve also had the great joy of spending most of my time in Ireland walking the countryside. It doesn’t take long to realize, that in Ireland, sheep are everywhere. They graze in open unfenced fields. The graze along side the roadway. They graze in people’s front lawns. Sheep have the right of way in Ireland.
On one of my pilgrimages a group of us spent a week in Glendalough. We stayed in a retreat house about a mile from the village. The house backed up to the forest. A stream ran by the house about twenty feet from the front door. The view out my second-story bedroom window stretched across the stream and up the side of the Derrybawn Mountain, which was home to roaming flock of sheep.
The sheep would wonder up and down the side of the small mountain during the day. Near sundown they would come down the hill for a drink and then they would cross the stream and bed down near the retreat dwellings.
The sheep were so domesticated that if you happened to be walking down the road that ran along the stream while the sheep were walking down the road you could join their flock and walk along with them. That’s when I got the real sense of being in the fold.
One night after dinner we were sitting outside the retreat house telling stories and passing around a bottle of Jameson. The little flock of sheep that stayed around our house wondered into our group nose down, nibbling at the grass growing in the lawn. They were safe, we were safe there were so many ways to a part of their fold.
Did you realize there is no individual derivative of the word sheep? The intended use of the word sheep is collective. Our group had become a part of the sheep.
Those of you who hear me preach regularly know that I am usually finding ways to connect our responsibility as Christians to be Jesus in the world. In other words we are to be the feet and hands of Christ to a world in need.
Well, today is the exception. The passage from Gospel of John we heard this morning (John 10:11-18) is making it clear that Jesus is the Good Shepherd. Jesus is the one who has lain down his life for his sheep. The sheep know Jesus’ voice. Jesus is the one shepherd gathering the one flock.
We are all a part of the flock and that includes the clergy, we are the sheep in this story. Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
But, that doesn’t alleviate, the flock, of our responsibility. As with my sheep friends in Ireland, we, the congregation, have to create a safe way for other sheep to come into our midst and walk along with us and we with them.
In a recent Christian Century (May 5, 2009) article by Amy Frykholm entitled “Entry Points: Church as a hosting community,” the Rev. Peter Rood and Holy Nativity Episcopal Church is featured. The Rev. Rood’s philosophy of church is to provide “As many entry points as there are ideas and questions.”
Rood uses the neo-monastic model to revitalize a once dying congregation. The goal of Holy Nativity is to provide a place of hospitality and discernment “where people can connect with a personal passion and then deepen and grow.”
So I have to ask, “are we a safe fold?” “How many entry points do we have into our parish?”
Tamara is a faithful part of our St. Brigid’s Community. Thursday night in her efforts to describe our community to someone who showed up for the first time, she said, “We are a band of refugees.” That may have been the best compliment our community has ever had laid on it. It was as if she was saying, “Hey, you want to join our band of sheep, we come from everywhere and are made up of every kind. This is a safe place.”
It made me wonder if Jesus would feel comfortable in our community? Do you think Jesus would feel welcome here? I mean Jesus was a Jew. He walked everywhere he went. He didn’t have any money. He didn’t have a job. He probably wasn’t that educated.
Thinking that made me wonder if Jesus would have wanted to be confirmed as an Episcopalian.
And then that made me wonder if our Bishop would have ordained Jesus a deacon or a priest.
That of course begs the question, are we comfortable with Jesus being our shepherd, the shepherd who brings other sheep to the fold? In Jesus’ time, being a shepherd was offensive. Shepherds were uneducated men. They lived with their sheep and they smelled like their sheep. No one thought of a shepherd as a good leader. It would be saying, Jesus is the Good Migrant Worker. (Nancy Blakely, Feasting on the Word). Are we willing to follow Jesus the Good Migrant Worker?
If we are going to be a safe fold where Jesus can gather other sheep we need to be wiling to provide as many entry points for as many different people as possible. We must be a safe and welcoming community for refugees of all types.
Are we a community that welcomes the questioning, the doubting, and the disbelieving? Do we welcome the hungry and the lonely? Do we welcome people of all ages? Do we welcome people of both genders? Do we welcome people of all colors and all nations? Do we welcome people of all sexual orientations? Do we welcome people of all political persuasions? Is this a safe place for all of Jesus’ sheep? I pray so.
We have a vision we are a parish of prayer, discernment and hospitality. But, we’re just getting started. Jesus is gathering sheep and we must be a safe place for Jesus to gather these new sheep.
On one of my pilgrimages a group of us spent a week in Glendalough. We stayed in a retreat house about a mile from the village. The house backed up to the forest. A stream ran by the house about twenty feet from the front door. The view out my second-story bedroom window stretched across the stream and up the side of the Derrybawn Mountain, which was home to roaming flock of sheep.
The sheep would wonder up and down the side of the small mountain during the day. Near sundown they would come down the hill for a drink and then they would cross the stream and bed down near the retreat dwellings.
The sheep were so domesticated that if you happened to be walking down the road that ran along the stream while the sheep were walking down the road you could join their flock and walk along with them. That’s when I got the real sense of being in the fold.
One night after dinner we were sitting outside the retreat house telling stories and passing around a bottle of Jameson. The little flock of sheep that stayed around our house wondered into our group nose down, nibbling at the grass growing in the lawn. They were safe, we were safe there were so many ways to a part of their fold.
Did you realize there is no individual derivative of the word sheep? The intended use of the word sheep is collective. Our group had become a part of the sheep.
Those of you who hear me preach regularly know that I am usually finding ways to connect our responsibility as Christians to be Jesus in the world. In other words we are to be the feet and hands of Christ to a world in need.
Well, today is the exception. The passage from Gospel of John we heard this morning (John 10:11-18) is making it clear that Jesus is the Good Shepherd. Jesus is the one who has lain down his life for his sheep. The sheep know Jesus’ voice. Jesus is the one shepherd gathering the one flock.
We are all a part of the flock and that includes the clergy, we are the sheep in this story. Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
But, that doesn’t alleviate, the flock, of our responsibility. As with my sheep friends in Ireland, we, the congregation, have to create a safe way for other sheep to come into our midst and walk along with us and we with them.
In a recent Christian Century (May 5, 2009) article by Amy Frykholm entitled “Entry Points: Church as a hosting community,” the Rev. Peter Rood and Holy Nativity Episcopal Church is featured. The Rev. Rood’s philosophy of church is to provide “As many entry points as there are ideas and questions.”
Rood uses the neo-monastic model to revitalize a once dying congregation. The goal of Holy Nativity is to provide a place of hospitality and discernment “where people can connect with a personal passion and then deepen and grow.”
So I have to ask, “are we a safe fold?” “How many entry points do we have into our parish?”
Tamara is a faithful part of our St. Brigid’s Community. Thursday night in her efforts to describe our community to someone who showed up for the first time, she said, “We are a band of refugees.” That may have been the best compliment our community has ever had laid on it. It was as if she was saying, “Hey, you want to join our band of sheep, we come from everywhere and are made up of every kind. This is a safe place.”
It made me wonder if Jesus would feel comfortable in our community? Do you think Jesus would feel welcome here? I mean Jesus was a Jew. He walked everywhere he went. He didn’t have any money. He didn’t have a job. He probably wasn’t that educated.
Thinking that made me wonder if Jesus would have wanted to be confirmed as an Episcopalian.
And then that made me wonder if our Bishop would have ordained Jesus a deacon or a priest.
That of course begs the question, are we comfortable with Jesus being our shepherd, the shepherd who brings other sheep to the fold? In Jesus’ time, being a shepherd was offensive. Shepherds were uneducated men. They lived with their sheep and they smelled like their sheep. No one thought of a shepherd as a good leader. It would be saying, Jesus is the Good Migrant Worker. (Nancy Blakely, Feasting on the Word). Are we willing to follow Jesus the Good Migrant Worker?
If we are going to be a safe fold where Jesus can gather other sheep we need to be wiling to provide as many entry points for as many different people as possible. We must be a safe and welcoming community for refugees of all types.
Are we a community that welcomes the questioning, the doubting, and the disbelieving? Do we welcome the hungry and the lonely? Do we welcome people of all ages? Do we welcome people of both genders? Do we welcome people of all colors and all nations? Do we welcome people of all sexual orientations? Do we welcome people of all political persuasions? Is this a safe place for all of Jesus’ sheep? I pray so.
We have a vision we are a parish of prayer, discernment and hospitality. But, we’re just getting started. Jesus is gathering sheep and we must be a safe place for Jesus to gather these new sheep.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Life is fragile
Life is fragile. As the psalm says, like a hot wind blowing over a plant, if we are lucky, the psalmist writes, we live 70 maybe 80 years. Yes, life is short and fragile.
Last Sunday June’s son was shot dead while sitting in his photo enforcement vehicle on the 101 at 7th Street. Douglas Georgianni was doing paperwork in his van with the light on. An SUV slowly pulled up beside Doug’s van and opened fire.
This is a senseless tragedy. Of course, the media and the “talk” surrounding this situation focus on the controversy of photo enforcement. For months now this community has been mired in ever increasing “hate talk” in regards to photo enforcement. At first, someone put a “sticky note” on one of the cameras. Then someone sprayed “silly string” on the camera. Most recently, someone who took a pickax to one of the cameras was sentenced and fined. But the murder of Doug Georgianni was shocking and stunning.
Doug was a good guy. He had been a teaching golf pro for many years. He was in between jobs, so to support he and his wife he took this temporary job. Ironically he had given his employer notice because he had landed a new job. He was working his final three nights when he was murdered.
Why do horrible and tragic things happen to good people?
In the most recent issue of Tikkun (“God is Becoming: Consolation in the Face of Tragedy” May/June 2009), Rabbi Bradley Artson wrote a letter to his students and friends in response to the tragic death of a young student. In the letter he tries to offer a better way of understanding God’s interaction with the world and with tragic events.
In the letter he makes a case for God’s choice of creating a world in which we are participants in God’s ongoing process of creativity. Rabbi Artson follows the line of Protestant theologian Karl Barth who states that God has limited Godself to the laws of nature and science in God’s interaction with the world. God has given his human creation freedom of choice and free will. Humanity’s free will has an impact upon the actions of God.
Artson writes, “God is vulnerable to surprise and disappointment just as we are. The universe unfolds according to its own inner logic; the laws of physics operate, and God cannot/does not suspend them based on moral standard. As Rabbi Harold Kushner says, asking the universe to treat you better because you are moral is like expecting the bull not to charge because you are a vegetarian.”
God’s decision to self-limitations therefore removes the agency of God from being a manipulative God and in the same way limits God from being all-powerful in the world in which we live. In other words, bad things happen to good people because the world has people who have the freewill to make bad decisions.
He goes on to write. “Someone dying young, someone struggling with special needs, illness or poverty is indefensible, (especially if God is omnipotent). Hiding behind “it’s a mystery,” or “we can’t understand,” or “it’s all for the best,” in my opinion, worse than unsatisfying, because it requires either blaming the victim or denying our ethical compass.”
He continues, “I don’t think we have to abandon a conviction of a loving God. But I invite us to grow past an almighty one. If God truly ceded to creation the ability to make choices, then God didn’t kill the innocent, didn’t allocate disability, and didn’t impose poverty…. When my beloved student struggled with what became a terminal illness, I saw God being very busy throughout his struggle – in the moment of laughter and song…in community…in connection…in family.”
He writes in conclusion. “I never expected God to guarantee an outcome or suspend the natural. I did expect to find God in the steady constant lure toward good choices and responsibility. And that God did not disappoint…our sorrows are not lost – they permanently become part of the divine. Our joys and our lives are not forgotten…I can affirm that my student’s life is not ended, although he is no longer visible to our eyes. He (like God) is a process, and the process never ends.”
What Rabbi Artson is proposing is that God is still in the creating process with us – and that we are a part of that process. God created the universe and gave us the privilege, freedom and responsibility to participate in that ongoing process of creation. We are not God’s puppets on a string. We have been created in the image of God to be good stewards of God’s creation. Unfortunately, bad decisions are made and people don’t always take responsibility for their actions. And people suffer – and I believe that God suffers along with us.
In today’s gospel story we hear that the disciples are hiding behind the closed doors of the fear of death. The disciples were seeking security. But Jesus did not appear to them to bring them security – no, he appeared to teach them to take his peace into the world. He taught them that they would have to take great risks to bring his peace into world. They would have to give sacrifice security for peace.
The question for us is what will be our community’s response to Jesus’ message of peace? Will we be willing to take the risks that the disciples eventually took to be witnesses of Jesus’ peace? The disciples faced rejection from their religious community, their family and friends. Are we willing to face that same rejection from the popular religion and the popular culture of our day? Are we wiling to take responsibility for our actions, or worse, our inaction?
Douglas Georgianni was one of the 10,000 homicides that will be committed in our country this year using a gun. Every day, 80 people, including 14 children in the US are killed by firearms. Between 1979 and 1997 more people were killed by firearms in the US (651,697) than were killed in battle since 1775 (650,858). Between 1979 and 2001 90,000 children under the age of 15 died from gunshot in the US. That’s over 5,000 children annually. For comparison, in a typical year the combined total of firearm fatalities in Japan, Great Britain, Germany, France and Canada barely exceeds 300.
To bring the issue even closer to home the violence at our border is increasing as we speak. Last week our former Governor Janet Napolitano, now the Secretary of Homeland Defense and our two Senators, Kyle and McCain held a summit on border violence. Every solution but one was offered. More National Guard will be sent to the border. Better screening of vehicles that go into Mexico, looking for weapons and money will take place.
Unfortunately, the one thing that could make a difference was avoided, some form of gun control. Simply reinstating the ban on assault rifles could lower the violence at the border. Ninety percent of all weapons confiscated in Mexico come from the US. I have to wonder why the increase of violence at the border has coincided with the lifting of the assault rifle ban in 2004? But, our President and our Congress consider this issue too hot a political potato to handle right now. To me, that is disappointing.
God will not magically make the violence and tragedy of this world go away. We are responsible to be co-creators with God.
Where is the Christian voice of peace? Where are Christians who will take responsibility and risk for the sake of Christ’s peace? God has given us free will and the responsibility to be stewards of creation, the protector of life and witnesses of Christ’s peace. We need reasonable and responsible gun control in this country. Christian’s need to move out from behind the doors of the fear of death and become agents of Christ’s peace in the world. That will take courage, risk and the likelihood of becoming unpopular. It will also be what, I believe; God is calling us to do.
Do I think June’s son would be alive today if the assault rifle ban was in place? No, I doubt it. But I do think he might be alive if we had reasonable gun control laws in place – and I think we have to start somewhere. Because I know if we do nothing, if we give in to the rhetoric of those who promote unbridled access to weapons more and more innocent people will die – and I know that Christians have a responsibility to God’s creation to act for the sake of the peace that Jesus has brought into the world.
Last Sunday June’s son was shot dead while sitting in his photo enforcement vehicle on the 101 at 7th Street. Douglas Georgianni was doing paperwork in his van with the light on. An SUV slowly pulled up beside Doug’s van and opened fire.
This is a senseless tragedy. Of course, the media and the “talk” surrounding this situation focus on the controversy of photo enforcement. For months now this community has been mired in ever increasing “hate talk” in regards to photo enforcement. At first, someone put a “sticky note” on one of the cameras. Then someone sprayed “silly string” on the camera. Most recently, someone who took a pickax to one of the cameras was sentenced and fined. But the murder of Doug Georgianni was shocking and stunning.
Doug was a good guy. He had been a teaching golf pro for many years. He was in between jobs, so to support he and his wife he took this temporary job. Ironically he had given his employer notice because he had landed a new job. He was working his final three nights when he was murdered.
Why do horrible and tragic things happen to good people?
In the most recent issue of Tikkun (“God is Becoming: Consolation in the Face of Tragedy” May/June 2009), Rabbi Bradley Artson wrote a letter to his students and friends in response to the tragic death of a young student. In the letter he tries to offer a better way of understanding God’s interaction with the world and with tragic events.
In the letter he makes a case for God’s choice of creating a world in which we are participants in God’s ongoing process of creativity. Rabbi Artson follows the line of Protestant theologian Karl Barth who states that God has limited Godself to the laws of nature and science in God’s interaction with the world. God has given his human creation freedom of choice and free will. Humanity’s free will has an impact upon the actions of God.
Artson writes, “God is vulnerable to surprise and disappointment just as we are. The universe unfolds according to its own inner logic; the laws of physics operate, and God cannot/does not suspend them based on moral standard. As Rabbi Harold Kushner says, asking the universe to treat you better because you are moral is like expecting the bull not to charge because you are a vegetarian.”
God’s decision to self-limitations therefore removes the agency of God from being a manipulative God and in the same way limits God from being all-powerful in the world in which we live. In other words, bad things happen to good people because the world has people who have the freewill to make bad decisions.
He goes on to write. “Someone dying young, someone struggling with special needs, illness or poverty is indefensible, (especially if God is omnipotent). Hiding behind “it’s a mystery,” or “we can’t understand,” or “it’s all for the best,” in my opinion, worse than unsatisfying, because it requires either blaming the victim or denying our ethical compass.”
He continues, “I don’t think we have to abandon a conviction of a loving God. But I invite us to grow past an almighty one. If God truly ceded to creation the ability to make choices, then God didn’t kill the innocent, didn’t allocate disability, and didn’t impose poverty…. When my beloved student struggled with what became a terminal illness, I saw God being very busy throughout his struggle – in the moment of laughter and song…in community…in connection…in family.”
He writes in conclusion. “I never expected God to guarantee an outcome or suspend the natural. I did expect to find God in the steady constant lure toward good choices and responsibility. And that God did not disappoint…our sorrows are not lost – they permanently become part of the divine. Our joys and our lives are not forgotten…I can affirm that my student’s life is not ended, although he is no longer visible to our eyes. He (like God) is a process, and the process never ends.”
What Rabbi Artson is proposing is that God is still in the creating process with us – and that we are a part of that process. God created the universe and gave us the privilege, freedom and responsibility to participate in that ongoing process of creation. We are not God’s puppets on a string. We have been created in the image of God to be good stewards of God’s creation. Unfortunately, bad decisions are made and people don’t always take responsibility for their actions. And people suffer – and I believe that God suffers along with us.
In today’s gospel story we hear that the disciples are hiding behind the closed doors of the fear of death. The disciples were seeking security. But Jesus did not appear to them to bring them security – no, he appeared to teach them to take his peace into the world. He taught them that they would have to take great risks to bring his peace into world. They would have to give sacrifice security for peace.
The question for us is what will be our community’s response to Jesus’ message of peace? Will we be willing to take the risks that the disciples eventually took to be witnesses of Jesus’ peace? The disciples faced rejection from their religious community, their family and friends. Are we willing to face that same rejection from the popular religion and the popular culture of our day? Are we wiling to take responsibility for our actions, or worse, our inaction?
Douglas Georgianni was one of the 10,000 homicides that will be committed in our country this year using a gun. Every day, 80 people, including 14 children in the US are killed by firearms. Between 1979 and 1997 more people were killed by firearms in the US (651,697) than were killed in battle since 1775 (650,858). Between 1979 and 2001 90,000 children under the age of 15 died from gunshot in the US. That’s over 5,000 children annually. For comparison, in a typical year the combined total of firearm fatalities in Japan, Great Britain, Germany, France and Canada barely exceeds 300.
To bring the issue even closer to home the violence at our border is increasing as we speak. Last week our former Governor Janet Napolitano, now the Secretary of Homeland Defense and our two Senators, Kyle and McCain held a summit on border violence. Every solution but one was offered. More National Guard will be sent to the border. Better screening of vehicles that go into Mexico, looking for weapons and money will take place.
Unfortunately, the one thing that could make a difference was avoided, some form of gun control. Simply reinstating the ban on assault rifles could lower the violence at the border. Ninety percent of all weapons confiscated in Mexico come from the US. I have to wonder why the increase of violence at the border has coincided with the lifting of the assault rifle ban in 2004? But, our President and our Congress consider this issue too hot a political potato to handle right now. To me, that is disappointing.
God will not magically make the violence and tragedy of this world go away. We are responsible to be co-creators with God.
Where is the Christian voice of peace? Where are Christians who will take responsibility and risk for the sake of Christ’s peace? God has given us free will and the responsibility to be stewards of creation, the protector of life and witnesses of Christ’s peace. We need reasonable and responsible gun control in this country. Christian’s need to move out from behind the doors of the fear of death and become agents of Christ’s peace in the world. That will take courage, risk and the likelihood of becoming unpopular. It will also be what, I believe; God is calling us to do.
Do I think June’s son would be alive today if the assault rifle ban was in place? No, I doubt it. But I do think he might be alive if we had reasonable gun control laws in place – and I think we have to start somewhere. Because I know if we do nothing, if we give in to the rhetoric of those who promote unbridled access to weapons more and more innocent people will die – and I know that Christians have a responsibility to God’s creation to act for the sake of the peace that Jesus has brought into the world.
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